The Crystal Demon: 10/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
X
Mark awakened him for his watch three hours later. It passed quietly, although once again he thought he sensed the unseen watcher but when he reached out carefully, the contact broke so quickly that he wasn't sure it had been anything at all. His watch ended and he woke Julia.
She sat up, trying vainly to smooth her hair into place. The front of her flight suit, revealed in the glow of his handlight, had come partially unsealed and involuntarily, Alan's eyes flicked toward the curve of breast thus revealed. Julia pulled the suit together, fastening it firmly. "Drat you, Alan!"
He felt his face grow warm and quickly snapped off the light. "Sorry."
"It's okay." He could hear the smile in her voice.
A flash of light drew his gaze back to the outside. Above the trees, a brilliant meteor blazed through the clouds and plunged toward the planet. For an instant, it glowed bright and beautiful against the overcast sky and then winked out. Julia had seen it too, but neither commented. Meteors; so many meteors. The night sky was alive with them. As he watched, another traced its fiery trail through the clouds, and then another, smaller one.
He lay down beside Mark. The rain still fell, but more softly now, a whisper in his ears. Julia's dim form was silhouetted against the shadowy trees outside. Alan turned over restlessly, bringing a protesting groan from his partner. Doggone it! He didn't feel a bit sleepy. Something was bothering him, but he didn't know what it was.
Eventually he drowsed but his dreams were uneasy. He kept seeing that face against the background of leaves, the dark eyes regarding him in a troubled fashion. Could this being have anything to do with the dead patrolmen and the Jilectan? Was it possible?
He came wide-awake when Julia touched his shoulder, and was instantly aware of danger.
"Quiet!" she whispered. "Not a sound!"
Mark was already sitting up, his blaster in his hand, and beyond him, the first grey light of dawn was staining the leaves silver. Alan drew his blaster too, and eased forward to crouch beside his partner. Mark glanced sideways at him. "We got company."
Alan had already sensed them. Now he could hear the sound of heavy treads crunching on the forest floor. A crawler passed their shelter, crushing the vegetation beneath it. Alan caught a glimpse of four black-clad figures within.
"Here iss ssome." The voice came clearly to his ears. "I will get it. Cover me."
There was a click and the sound of the vehicle's door sliding open. Alan risked a glance outside.
The men had all climbed from the crawler, and three of them stood uneasily beside it, blasters drawn, while a fourth knelt a few meters from his companions. He was holding a bush knife in one scaled hand, and appeared to be cutting something with it. The spicy fragrance that Alan had noticed the night before grew stronger.
"Check that tree, Jansen." It was the sergeant. "There could be a dozen of 'em hiding in it."
"You check it," the other man returned resentfully. "I ain't lookin' for trouble."
The sergeant's voice grew menacing. "I said check it, Patrolman!"
"Aw, Sarge, have a heart!"
"I'll check it." It was the third patrolman. "Take it easy, Jansen."
"You're busted, Jansen!" the sergeant snapped.
Jansen made no comment. There was the crunch of boots as the braver patrolman approached the tree.
Mark gave a deafening battle cry and leaped out, his blaster spitting. The man fell, and surprisingly, the others made no attempt to return the fire, but instead broke for cover with screams of terror. Jansen and the sergeant plunged into the nearest shrubbery and the crashing of brush, attested to their panicky flight.
But the fourth patrolman, who had been kneeling, came to his feet, and his eyes widened as they rested for an instant on Mark. Then he turned and leaped for the underbrush, vanishing into its concealing growth, although Alan's shot charred the grass at his heels.
In an instant, Alan was after him. The patrolman was fast and light on his feet, but Alan knew he could probably overtake him, although the man had a good head start. He had to catch him, because if he didn't, the Patrol would know exactly where to search for their little party. He charged after the fugitive, his feet silent on the forest floor. The sounds of his quarry's flight grew gradually nearer.
Then stopped.
Alan also stopped, his psychic senses scanning like radar. He could no longer sense the patrolman ahead of him, nor could he sense the man anywhere else in the vicinity. Nervousness crawled on his skin. Had he been picked up by an aircar? If so, this whole area would be swarming with searchers within thirty minutes.
He took a dozen cautious steps forward and stopped, scanning again. Nothing. His spine prickling, he trod on.
His foot struck something soft. He looked down.
The body of the patrolman lay at his feet.
For a slow count of ten he simply stared down at the Arcturian, his heart knocking crazily against his ribs. This couldn't be! It was impossible! He had been barely three minutes since the sounds of the man's flight had ceased. Alan had heard nothing and sensed no other presences nearby.
But impossible or not, there it was. Alan knelt beside the body and carefully removed the silvery helmet.
The Arcturian was one of the green-scaled variety. Alan turned the body over, repressing a shudder at the sight of the alien's protruding yellow eyes and shining fangs. Cautiously, he peeled back the man's collar, already knowing what he would find.
And there it was: a tiny, barely bleeding scratch, hardly more than a pinprick.
Alan's palms were clammy with sweat, but he was shivering as he stood up. Chills ran over his neck and scalp, his spine tingled and his skin crawled. The forest around him seemed to be closing in. Death -- gruesome death lurked here -- death that struck noiselessly and vanished. Why did the creatures continue to spare Alan and his friends? Were they simply waiting because they knew that there was no hurry, that Julia, Mark and Alan were marooned here and couldn't get away?
He shivered again at the feeling of unseen eyes on him, and he dared not reach out with a telepathic probe toward the watcher. They were all at the mercy of the natives of this world -- natives that clearly had no reason to love outsiders.
There was a crashing in the underbrush behind him, and he spun, bringing his blaster up. Mark Linley emerged from the shrubbery, blaster in hand. "What's wrong?"
Alan lowered his weapon. "Nothing."
"Nothin'? That was a helluva link for nothin'. Scared me silly!"
"Sorry." Alan swallowed, glancing down at the patrolman. Mark followed his gaze and swore softly. "The natives?"
"I found him like this," Alan said. "Mark, I was only seconds behind him when I heard the sounds stop. Whatever happened happened awfully fast."
"Yeah." Mark squatted down beside the patrolman, examining his neck. "These natives sure don't seem to like 'trols much. Doesn't seem to matter if they're Terran or otherwise."
"Yeah." Alan shook his head. "We'd better get back to Julia."
Julia was kneeling on the forest floor, examining something when they arrived. She came quickly to her feet when she saw them. "Well?"
"Dead," Mark said. "A scratch on his neck an' his breakfast all over the landscape."
Julia's eyes widened. "Oh."
"Yeah," Mark agreed. "Oh."
There was an uneasy pause, then Julia spoke again. "Well, I found something interesting, myself. Look at this."
They followed her pointing finger. It was a small patch of long, pale green leaves that grew close to the ground in the shape of a six-pointed star. Alan bent over it, his hands on his knees, and noted again the strong, spicy fragrance he had wondered about the night before.
Mark chuckled a little grimly. "Thought I smelled it last night. Those 'trols weren't lookin' for us after all."
"I guess not," Julia said.
Alan looked blankly from one to the other. "What is it?"
"What *is* it?" Linley grinned. "Seven thousand credits a gram. That stuff's Lemke."
"*Lemke*!" Alan stared at the little plant in awe. Lemke was a highly desirable herb, sold and distributed in the Autonomy to its more important and wealthy citizens. It was rare, impossible to grow for profit, and as a result, fabulously expensive. It wouldn't thrive on most worlds, and died quickly if placed in cultivated gardens. No one knew where it had originated or why it was so difficult to grow, but it had proven to be the proverbial "wonder drug". When eaten raw by Jilectans, Terrans, Arcturians, and many other humanoid species, the herb produced heightened mental awareness, quickened reflexes and a greater tolerance to fatigue. For a period of time after consuming the leaves, the being would show remarkable resistance to disease, and if injured, would recover with amazing rapidity. Most important, regular consumption of the leaf had been found to slow the aging process to almost a third of its normal rate.
"I'll be damned," Mark said softly. "Who woulda thought the stuff would grow here?"
Julia shrugged. "Why not? Remember Lortola 5 -- a little, isolated world on the outer fringes of the Sector?"
"Yeah," Mark said. "Damned stuff's always showin' up where it ain't expected. Well, now we know why the Jils haven't given this planet to Terra or any other species. Lemke!"
Alan's skin was crawling. The watcher was back, much closer now. He shuddered, suddenly afraid, and once again not daring to extend a mind probe. Menace was there, now. He could feel it, like a dark cloud in the air around them.
"I'll bet the incentive pay for these guys to go get it is astronomical," Julia said.
"Not high enough," Mark said. He started to reach for the Lemke.
"No!" Alan grabbed his partner's wrist. "Don't touch it!"
He didn't realize that he'd shouted aloud until he saw Mark and Julia staring at him; then Linley's face went from surprise to understanding. He pulled his hand back as if the Lemke had burned him and stood up, his fingers splayed before him. Julia scrambled back from the leaves, her face stark white.
"Get back from it." Alan spoke in a whisper. "Farther, Mark."
Linley obeyed, his hands still held out before him. Alan turned toward the trees, also displaying his empty hands. He spoke aloud toward the unseen presence, trying to relay the thought without actually making contact.
"We didn't take it. It's yours."
Tension relaxing, and very slowly the sensation of hatred and menace faded. Alan waited a moment more and then spoke to his companions. "We'd better go."
Mark gulped, picking up his pack from the ground. "I guess they didn't like me foolin' with the Lemke, did they."
"No," Alan said. "They didn't."
**********
They tramped along slowly, glancing uneasily up into the trees as they went. They were being followed; Alan was sure of that, although he could no longer sense the presence of the creatures.
"They trailin' us, kid?" Mark asked in an undertone.
Alan nodded. Julia looked apprehensively at him. "Why?"
"I don't know."
"Makin' up their minds about us maybe," Mark said. "Wish we'd never found that damned plant. Look."
Alan glanced down. On the forest floor, half-covered in leaves, were the decomposing remains of a body.
Julia wrinkled her nose. "Peeew!"
Mark knelt, brushing away leaves and twigs. The uniform of a patrolman came into view. "He's been here a while," he said briefly.
Alan could tell. He stepped back, trying to appear as unmoved as his partner. Mark straightened up. "His blaster's gone, but here's a couple of extra energy cells. The natives may have learned to use blasters, but they must not have figured out how to load 'em, yet." He glanced at Alan and grinned faintly. "You okay, kiddo?"
Alan nodded. "Maybe if we can ever contact them, we can teach them how to make life real hard for any 'trol who ventures into their territory."
"Doesn't seem to me that they're doing so bad on their own," Julia remarked. She smiled a little maliciously.
They went on, and slowly a sound became audible -- a rushing, gurgling sound. Water. They were coming to a small river.
"I'm hungry," Mark said. "An' it sounds like we might be comin' to water. What say we stop and have somethin' to eat? We ain't gonna get away from the natives no matter what we do, so we might as well relax. In the Patrol, they taught us never to let a new species see you're afraid. If you do, they'll take advantage of it right away."
Julia nodded. "I think they're still making up their minds about us. Since they're psychics, they can probably tell we're not hostile. That's why they haven't killed us."
Alan hadn't thought of that. "It makes sense," he agreed. "But I think there may be more to it -- something we don't know yet. Whenever this one who keeps following us lets his shielding down a little, I sense something -- a need of some kind. I think he wants to communicate, but he's afraid."
"You were afraid back there when I started to pick up the Lemke," Mark said.
"Yes," Alan said. "His shields opened when you did that, and I sensed all kinds of emotions -- mostly hostility and hatred. There's something very important about those leaves, and whoever he is, he didn't want us to touch them. I think he would have killed us if we'd tried."
"I kind of got that impression," Mark said, dryly. "You linked with me when you yelled. Scared me half to death."
"Sorry about that," Alan said.
"Well, I ain't sorry," Mark said. "You saved me from bein' a corpse with a hole in my gullet."
"Amen," Julia said, feelingly.
They struggled through a thick hedge of aromatic leaves and came at last upon a rushing torrent. Sunlight sparkled benignly on a pool above a waterfall, which consisted of a five-meter cascade of white water. It landed, foaming, on a jumble of boulders, rushed away between mossy banks and out of sight. Mark wiped his forehead and ran a hand through his blond hair, standing it on end.
"Nice," he commented. "I could do with a bath."
"Me, too," Julia said. Mark raised an eyebrow at her and she made a face at him. "I meant alone, you big jerk." She turned away, beginning to remove the fishing twine from her pack.
The pool was a fisherman's paradise. Alan cut a stout branch long enough to use as a fishing pole and tied the twine to it. "I'll do the fishing," he told her. "Maybe you two could gather some wood for a fire." He glanced quickly at Mark. "There's no one close by."
"I *still* don't think we oughta be lightin' fires!" Linley spoke emphatically. "Too much chance o' the smoke bein' seen from the air."
"I think it's safe," Alan said mildly. "At least in daylight, especially with all the mist from the falls, and the cloud cover, and if we're careful to use dry wood so it doesn't smoke."
Julia didn't speak. Mark shrugged. "I see your point, an' it's true we gotta eat. But I still think we should try the blasters."
Julia stifled a laugh, and Mark turned on her angrily.
"No, no," she gasped. "I'm sorry, Mark, but somehow I can't picture cooking a fish with a blaster. Besides, it seems to me that the noise it would make would be worse than the little bit of smoke made by a small fire."
Linley glowered at her. "A blaster on low doesn't make much noise -- not much more than a needle beam, actually. You use it on a man, an' it won't do more'n make a nice bunch o' blisters, and it'd sure cook a stupid fish."
Julia shuddered. "When did you ever use a low setting on a man?"
Linley looked uncomfortable. "Drop it, willya, honey? 'Trols sometimes hafta do things they don't like." He nodded to Alan. "Okay, I guess I'm outvoted. But if anythin' happens ..."
"I'll be the first to admit I was wrong," Alan said.
"And a fat lot of good it'll do." Mark scowled, then grinned. Julia turned away, still looking slightly ill. Linley glanced toward her. "Jul ..."
She shook her head. "Leave me alone."
He started toward her. "Jul, please ..."
Alan caught his arm. "Mark --"
Linley paused, scowling. "What?"
"Just leave her alone for now," Alan said softly.
Mark shook him off. "Jul ... for the luvvamike, I was a 'trol for ten years."
She wouldn't look at him. "Don't remind me."
"Dammit anyhow! What're you actin' like that for? I did my job. Sometimes I did things I didn't like because I didn't have no choice!"
She turned her back and walked away from him. Mark started to follow and then stopped, cursing under his breath. Julia bent, beginning to gather up wood. Mark turned and stalked away, his expression like a thundercloud.
Alan sighed, wondering if Julia and Mark would ever manage to resolve their differences. He knew how much it bothered Julia that Mark had once been a Viceregal Patrolman. In fact, Mark had been a patrolman when Alan had met him, and it had been to save an eighteen-year-old Alan Westover that Mark had deserted his profession. For that, Alan forgave him everything, and they were the best of friends, but for Julia it was different. Although in love with Mark, her family had all died at the hands of the Patrol, and the memory of that wasn't likely to be forgotten.
Alan dug into the damp forest floor, searching for something to use as bait. Perhaps Julia would eventually get over it. Time was supposed to heal all wounds ...
Mark appeared beside him. He dumped half a dozen pieces of wood on a flat shelf beside the river and cussed softly. "Sorry."
"What for?"
"For bein' such a sap. I should know by now that when you say to shut up, I better listen. But no, I gotta open my big mouth an' shove my foot in up to the knee."
"She'll get over it."
"Damn! I hope so!" Linley dug up leaves and moss. "Here. Lookin' for bait?"
"Yes, thanks." Gingerly, Alan took the small, slimy creature from Mark's unconcerned grasp and tried to spear it on the hook. His stomach lurched slightly, and he took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for another try. Julia dumped an armful of wood beside him and reached over without speaking, taking the creature and impaling it on the bent hairpin.
He grinned at her a little shamefacedly. "Thanks."
She smiled back. "Any time."
He tossed the line into the water. The result was immediate. The pole was nearly jerked from his hand and for a moment, he feared it would break. Julia caught his arm, and Mark came hurrying to help. After a short, fierce struggle, they succeeded in getting the fish to shore. Alan stood back, panting, and stared at the long, silvery creature flopping on the grass.
"Man!" his partner commented. "Watch your toes! That critter's mean enough to bite 'em off if it gets the chance."
Alan agreed breathlessly. Julia turned away again, avoiding Mark's eyes.
He caught two more within the next few minutes. Julia assembled wood and kindling on the ground below the falls and Alan crouched on a log, beginning the messy, distasteful task of cleaning the fish. Julia joined him, somehow still lovely in spite of the circumstances.
There was a terrific splash from above, and Julia started up with a half-scream.
"It's okay," Alan said. "Mark's taking his bath."
"Oh." She settled down again, picking up the fish she had dropped. "Scared me."
"Julia," Alan began. "About Mark ..."
Julia set down the cleaned fish and picked up a second one. "What about him?" she inquired coolly.
Alan hesitated. "Nothing," he said at last. "It's just that ... ouch!"
The knife had slipped, scoring a deep gash in his thumb. Julia jumped to her feet. "You cut yourself!" She pressed a handkerchief over the wound. "Good grief, Alan! Who taught you to clean fish?"
"No one." Alan could feel the flush spreading up his cheeks. "When my family went camping, we brought all our food along -- never fished or hunted. We were all too kind-hearted to kill anything."
"Oh." Julia didn't even smile. "Good heavens, Alan, that's deep. I'd better put a bandage on it." She removed the emergency kit from her pack as she spoke.
Mark appeared beside them, his blond hair clinging wetly to his neck and forehead. "What happened to you?"
"I cut my thumb cleaning the fish," Alan told him.
Julia thrust the first aid kit at Linley and turned away without a word. Mark didn't glance after her as she climbed the small hill to the pool above the falls. Carefully, he sponged Alan's injured thumb with antiseptic and applied a bandage. Above them, there was a faint splash as Julia entered the pool. Alan's eyes flicked involuntarily upward, and Mark grinned, finishing his first aid.
"Women!" was his only comment. "You can't live with 'em an' you can't live without 'em. It's an old sayin', but it's true." He began to remove the whiskers from his chin with a small, battery-powered razor.
"Where the dickens did you get *that*?" Alan asked.
"Some flake left it in the emergency kit. I just found it while I was stuffin' the bandages an' things back in. Want to borrow it?"
"Sure."
Mark finished shaving and handed him the razor. "Here you go. Do a good job. We want to make a nice impression on the natives if they ever decide to show themselves." He picked up the fish that Julia had dropped.
"I'll do that, Mark."
"You stick to gettin' the whiskers off your face. I've done enough bandagin' for one day."
"But I need to learn ... oh, all right." Alan turned on the razor as Mark completed the job with the fish and placed the cleaned slabs on a flat rock beside the assembled wood.
"Okay, here goes nothin'." He put a light to the tinder.
The flames fingered the dry twigs for a moment, then streamed upward, crackling enthusiastically. Julia joined them a moment later. She looked very pretty with her wet hair hanging down her back and drops still on her lashes.
"You can't see any smoke from up there," she told them. "I'm sure none is visible above the trees."
Mark said nothing, and Alan squirmed uneasily. It was impossible not to detect the emotions flowing from his two companions. If only he could do something to smooth things over.
Leroy Burke, back at the Lavirra Base, had often told him to stay out of other people's affairs, especially the love affairs. It was too easy to get hurt, or to hurt someone, if a psychic became involved.
Julia glanced at Alan. "Go clean up," she told him. "I'll finish grilling your fish."
"Okay." Alan stood up, sneaking a quick glance at Mark. His partner wasn't looking at him. He was scowling and staring into the fire. "Back in a minute."
Her smile became understanding. "I'd hate to be an empath," she said softly. "Go ahead, Alan, and stop worrying. Mark and I are adults. We'll refrain from killing each other until you get back."
Alan returned her smile and went lightly up the slope.
The water was pleasant on his skin. He basked in it up to his neck, then ducked under, scrubbing his face and hair. His arms and legs were peeling, and his feet were still sore from the beating they had taken. The water was like magic to his injuries, and he surfaced, wondering if it contained any medicinal properties. He was suddenly very hungry. The odor of cooking fish rose over the smell of the stream and the faintly intoxicating scent of wildflowers on the bank. A rock jutted from the water in the center of the pool, and on impulse, he climbed onto it, slipping a little on the moss, and let his feet dangle in the water.
Something glinted deep in the pool, nearly hidden by a large, jagged rock. As he looked at it, he felt his fingertips begin to tingle slightly. The object caught the sunlight and flashed brilliantly, and suddenly, Alan was sensing something. Energy -- psychic energy, radiating from the flash of light.
Without another thought, he dove toward the thing. It seemed suddenly very urgent that he secure it, although he couldn't have explained why. The water was deep at this point -- nearly four meters, and he could feel the pressure in his ears grow as he descended. The thing seemed to have moved, but the tingle of psychic energy drew him on, across the pool's bottom. The tiny glitter seemed to drift away from his hand as he reached for it.
His lungs were burning, but his need to secure the thing now seemed greater than his need for oxygen. His hand touched the rock wall of the pool, and before him was an overhang of rock. The glitter was beneath it. How the dickens had he seen it from the rock in the center of the pool? Alan reached beneath the rock and again the thing seemed to move. A faint blue sparkle glittered from a long, narrow crack in the wall itself.
He tried to jam his hand inside, but the space was too small. He *must* get it! It was urgent; imperative! Trying to ignore the small, dancing spots before his eyes, Alan reached for it with telekinesis.
And touched. The object rose from its resting spot and drifted leisurely through the water into his waiting grasp.
Something caught him by his hair and propelled him violently toward the surface. At the same moment, he realized that the black spots before his eyes were expanding, shutting out everything else.
Cool air flooded his face and suddenly he was coughing, trying to suck air into his starving lungs, while his hand still grasped the little object.
"Alan!" It was Julia's voice, sounding very frightened. Alan couldn't answer. Mark's arm was across his chest in a lifeguard's hold, bearing him toward shore.
Hands caught him beneath the armpits. Mark released him and Alan had a vague impression of Linley leaving the pool in a cascade of water. Then he, too, was hoisted from the water, and stretched out on the bank. Julia covered him with one of the emergency blankets.
"I'm okay!" he managed at last.
"Alan, what happened?" Julia asked. She still sounded scared.
He pushed himself up on one elbow and coughed again. Mark helped him sit up, and Alan realized unhappily that his partner was fully clad, even down to his boots, and that his clothing was soaking wet.
"Sorry, Mark," he managed.
"Sorry for *what*? Kid, what the hell happened? I thoughtcha were a good swimmer! In fact, I *know* you are!" Mark sounded more shaken than Julia.
Alan opened his hand, revealing the small, blue stone resting in his palm. "I went down after this, and I guess I sort of stayed down too long." He coughed, feeling very silly. "Sorry."
Mark stared at the stone, and Alan waited for the explosion, but it didn't occur. Mark touched the object lightly with one finger, and an odd look came into his face. "What *is* it?"
"I don't know. Whatever it is, it emits a psychic aura -- energy, I think." Alan studied the object carefully. It was a small, crystalline thing, oval in shape, and slightly flexible. Touching it, he was suddenly certain that it was not a rock, but something far more important than it appeared. Mark drew in his breath sharply and touched it again lightly, almost reverently.
"Can I hold it?" he inquired.
"I guess so." Alan placed it in Mark's palm and watched as Linley cupped it between both hands, staring at it as though fascinated.
"Mark?" Alan felt a little stab of alarm. "Are you okay?"
"Sure." Mark glanced up at him, but his gaze returned immediately to the object in his hands. "Why?"
"You look a little funny."
"I feel sorta funny, too, but it's a good feelin'." He lifted the little object, letting it catch the rays of the sun. "I like it, kid," he said. "Can I keep it?"
"Well sure, I suppose so."
Julia was looking a little concerned. "Do you know what it is, Alan?"
He shook his head. "I saw it on the bottom of the pool and went down for it. Crazy thing to do. It seemed to keep moving away from me, but I finally got it with telekinesis. Pretty, isn't it?"
Julia looked puzzled, glancing at the little object suspiciously. "Not particularly. Just a rock -- sort of dull grey, and not shiny or anything."
"Jul, you're blind," Mark said. "It ain't grey. It's the prettiest blue I've ever seen." He stopped, looking embarrassed. "It ... feels sorta good."
Alan nodded. "It did to me, too. It emits psychic energy, Mark -- positive psychic energy."
"I wouldn't know about that," Mark said.
"Well, it does. Sort of like those crystals on Kuloghi -- but different, too."
Mark frowned. "I don't look a bit like 'em."
"It isn't. This is different. But you're right -- whatever it is, it feels good. Friendly, sort of."
"Yeah, it does."
Alan surveyed his partner with faint puzzlement. "I don't understand how you can sense the aura, though. It's definitely psychic, and it's pretty obvious that Julia doesn't notice anything."
"Julia ain't held it yet," Mark said.
"That's right. Julia, take it a minute."
Looking oddly reluctant, Linley handed the object to Julia. She took it, cupping it between her hands as Mark had, and fixing her eyes on it. After a moment, she shook her head. "I don't feel anything."
Mark took it back. "Maybe I'm feelin' it through my link with you," he suggested.
"That's probably it," Alan said. He looked remorsefully at Mark's soaked flight suit. "Sorry you had to get wet for me, Mark."
"Huh? Oh, that's okay. A small price to pay." Mark ran a finger over the strange little object. "Jul, you got a piece o' that string?"
"Sure. What for?"
"I'm gonna wear this thing around my neck. There's a hole bored in it, see? It must be meant to wear."
Alan hadn't noticed it before but now he realized Mark was right. Julia handed Mark a piece of string, and Linley threaded it through the object and tied it around his neck. "Get dressed," he said. "You sure you're okay now?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for the rescue." Alan stood up, clutching the blanket around his middle. Julia must have had quite a view of him when Mark had lifted him from the pool, he thought uncomfortably.
Julia turned away and half slid, half ran down the slope to their campfire. Alan began to dress.
A few minutes later, they were sitting down to their belated breakfast. The fish, again, was a trifle overdone, but it didn't matter. Nothing had ever tasted so good, and Alan ate ravenously. Julia caught three more in a matter of minutes, and they ate them as well. Finally, Alan sat back, loosening his belt. Mark did also. "Full?"
Alan nodded.
"Yeah, me too." Mark patted his middle. "First good meal I've had since the one on the ship." He slipped the string from around his neck and cupped the stone in his hands again. Alan moved over beside him, also studying the little object. It was strange that Mark, who was certainly not a psychic, and who possessed very little shielding ability, should be able to feel the aura from the strange little stone. Mark didn't even recognize it as an aura. He just knew that the stone made him feel good, and he liked it.
Psychic phenomena were often inexplicable, though. Alan shrugged it off and got to his feet. "I guess we should go on, huh?"
"Yeah." Mark replaced the stone around his neck and poured damp earth over their campfire. Alan added a double handful of his own.
"Okay. Ready, Julia?"
"Ready." She got to her feet, and Mark led the way across a narrow section of the river.
**********
tbc
